


Tangled And Twisted, The Road Down To Hell

by peterspajamas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Family, Bets & Wagers, Camping, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fuckbuddies, Hurt Tony Stark, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Misunderstandings, Secret Identity, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, and, side T'Challa/Thor, soft, soft enemies to lovers it's not hardcore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterspajamas/pseuds/peterspajamas
Summary: Tony Stark is a recovering weapons dealer, the Avengers sponsor, and maybe, just maybe, the most hated billionaire in his own Tower. Under their noses, he saves people as Iron Man, and the stress of such opposite lives weighs on him. The hero or the scapegoat? People only see one.Steve Rogers has one goal, and it’s to keep his team safe. From the original members, Jan, Clint, Thor, to the secretive ones, like Iron Man. There are two types of people in his life, really. Subordinates and superiors. One night, after a battle, though, he gets drunk. He loses a bet. Tony Stark wakes up to a proposition, but he knows the truth: it’s fake. He can also use it to his advantage and escape the role he’s playing for the Avengers, finally enter their world as his real self and not a secret identity. Guilty about the bet, Steve agrees.On their own, neither one of them would end up where they go. But circumstances demand: they build something easily breakable, soft and trusting. But nothing is real: Not Tony, who is also Iron Man, not their fuckbuddies relationship, and definitely not Steve, who wants nothing more than to isolate himself.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 33
Kudos: 158
Collections: Iron Man's Identity is a Secret





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purposefullyinlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purposefullyinlove/gifts).



> enemies to lovers,,, identity porn,, fake dating.... BETS AND WAGERS?? 
> 
> this was a tumblr prompt from my dear friend (love u carolin) and i feel bad about how long it is. whatever. hopefully you don't hate it, this was fun and indulgent, at least for me, and I hope whoever reads it finds it to be fun and indulgent as well!

The armor was heavy lately. Tony stretched out, bones popping and muscles relieved, and pitched forward out of the elevator. The day had been absolutely riddled with problems, the most prominent being the recovered Chitauri tech they had been blasted with. Very close behind that was the Iron Man suit's very specific problem of weighing an absurd 200- something lbs. He shucked the chestplate, and then the rest of the suit, trying his best to not just. Drop it. That would scratch the paint. 

Either the armor was too heavy, or maybe he just hadn’t been working out enough. It took all of 10 seconds for him to drop to the couch, groaning long. The armor fled, Jarvis being a sweetheart, and Tony blinked at the ceiling. Christ. He could fall asleep right here. 

Before sleeping, though, he _really_ wanted to shower. Part of the exhaustion was the hours on end spent in the suit, and hours spent in the suit could only mean one thing: sweat, and a lot of it. It was times like this that he heavily contemplated just giving up the ruse. At least if he outed himself as Iron Man to SHIELD, he could _leave_ the damn suit during debriefings instead of being stuck in there. The fights themselves were intense, but at least he could _move_. Long debriefings were torture. Inside the Iron Man suit, though, he had a camaraderie with the active Avengers worth its weight in gold. Natasha, for example, would literally murder Tony if he suggested she see a hairstylist. Iron Man had made that quip today after her entire head was full of static, tangled and bloody. She hadn't said a word.

Tony took a wobbling step into the shower, feeling ridiculously old when he had the urge to buy one of those old man poles. He slumped into the wall, water raining down on him. He showered the sweat and grime away. It was almost like he was a part of the suit, rust in his joints that needed a thorough wash. The room was fogged up from the heated shower when he stepped out, inspecting the mirror and flipping his hair around so it sat just right. He knew what Rogers would think of that. Oh, had he heard the muttering. _Vain bastard_ , _greedy taskmaster_ , and _disappointment to your father’s name_. Tony tended to pretend he didn’t hear. 

He was fairly certain Rogers underestimated his hearing. Rogers underestimated his, well, everything. Tony smiled tightly, as practice for tomorrow’s charity ball, and flopped on the bed, still in his soft robe. He very much had a soft spot for Steve, when he was in the suit, but appearances had to be kept up and it wasn’t quite on brand for him to spoil the blond one, the American flag one, when he was such an opposite. Truth was, he kind of adored Steve when he wasn’t being viciously insulted. It had turned into quite the problem. 

No one saw. Not at the interviews when the team was mentioned, not at the balls he hosted for them, not the dire emergencies he met on the battlefield with them. That last one was only because of the Iron Man mask. Tony sure couldn’t stop himself from smiling at Steve when he was directing specifics like a professional. So what? Tony thought it was cute that Steve was such a talented commander, and there was nothing sexier than competence. Aside from maybe a nice ass. Well, Steve had that too. 

Alright, he was done thinking for the day. Time to sleep. Tony was so tired, it wouldn’t hurt just this once. He allowed himself to crawl right into bed still in his robe, head on the pillow and fast asleep in less than 5 minutes. 

It meant he missed the chaos happening just 2 floors below him. 

* * *

Iron Man had exited the meeting promptly. Steve knew it was one of two things that made him do that: Stark, or his real life. Technically, your boss was a part of your life. But Steve didn’t like to think of Stark and Iron Man as connected. “Steve, get over here, we’re playing charades!” Wanda said lightly. 

He turned away from the window, leaning casually against a stool. “I’ll watch,” he said, nodding and smiling at the right times. Clint had brought a girl, somehow (maybe it was one of those rescue romance style flings? Steve had no clue how he found these women) and she kept looking at him. It made him self conscious. 

“Oh, I dressed him,” Jan said proudly, folding up another piece of paper. “Looks nice, doesn’t he?” 

Steve was wearing a black t-shirt. He didn’t like t-shirts, or dark colors, really. And people (Jan) kept staring. “Hey, Laura, what’s that lipstick you’re wearing? I like it,” Clint told her, flinging a few of the charades into the hat sitting on the floor. 

“You look nice,” Jan added, turning around to whisper something to Thor. He laughed, booming. 

“Does everyone have theirs written down?” Jan asked the group, holding up the hat full to the brim with paper. “Pipe down, lovebirds!”

Clint and Laura both quieted down, her laying her head in his lap. Natasha was perched on a large armchair across the room, both Thor and his friend, T’Challa, at her side. The Maximoff twins had made themselves cozy on the last couch. Steve looked back at Jan. “Oh God.” She grinned. 

“What is it?” Clint leaned forward. 

“No peeking!” Jan yelped. “Natasha, you, Thor, and T’Challa are on my team. The other 4 stay there, don’t cheat.” 

“This will be fun,” Natasha declared, holding out her hand for one of those chocolate covered coffee beans being passed around. Steve didn’t care for them, they were too gritty, but food was food. 

“I’m starting!” Jan said, thrusting her shoulders back. 

“Parrot! Bird!” Thor said loudly. She glared. Too many op eds comparing her to a sparrow or a hummingbird instead of a wasp, Steve guessed. He leaned back against the couch. 

Jan held both her palms out- repulsor blast, so Iron Man. “Iron Man,” Natasha said. “This one was easy.” 

Jan shook her head, dropping her palms and turning around, getting back into that ridiculous, puffed out chest position. “War Machine?” T’Challa’s brow creased, but she denied that one, too. 

Clint was laughing loudly into Laura’s hair. “You’re funny,” he cackled. “This is great, I- Laura, I put this one in,” he insisted. 

Jan pretended to throw a shield. Was _that_ what the pose was? High and mighty Captain? Ridiculous. He rolled his eyes. “Captain America, winghead, shellhead, secret identity-” 

Thor cut Natasha off. “Undeclared love!” The rest of the team burst into laughter, everyone but Steve. He prowled closer, finally within the confines of the group circle. Jan was almost laughing too hard to keep moving. 

She mimed a courteous Steve pretending to shake someone’s hand, then Iron Man grinning. They’d never seen the man smile, Steve didn’t know why she thought it would be a good idea to do that. “Best friends,” Natasha said. 

“Finally!” Jan beamed, passing the other hat to team 2. “We took 2 and a half minutes, that’s terrible.” 

“Get some wine in me and I’ll guess quicker,” T’Challa said, a smile playing on his lips. 

Natasha high fived him. “Seconded. Steve, can you-” 

He fixed her with a look and she laughed it off. “I can, but only because I’m very nice, and team leader, and neither of you said anything,” he told them, glaring at Thor. 

There were already two bottles out, but they seemed to be empty. The culprit was Jan, with her flushed face, and Clint and his girl, who seemed to be more permanent than Steve had thought originally. Regardless, he got out the corkscrew and worked two more bottles open. T’Challa wasn’t picky, but Nat liked hers in a glass, especially one of the fancy crystal ones. If there was one thing Stark was good for- 

The top of the bottle cracked off in his hand, clean, and Steve jumped back. “Are you okay?” Nat shouted from the living room. 

“Fine!” He frowned, wishing they would stop talking so loud. Oh, great, now Pietro and Wanda were shouting answers and Clint was peppering in useless commentary. Drunk Clint didn’t know how to do anything, let alone play charades. If something happened, it was almost certainly by accident. Like that time, the one in Bulgaria, where he’d somehow fallen into bed with an ambassador, who was working with Doom. That had been interesting. Interesting maybe didn’t cover it- she had a stiletto knife at his throat before he’d taken her out. 

“Come on, T’Challa’s waiting.” Nat appeared in the door. “Oh dear.” 

He winced. “Yeah, it’s not that bad.” He set the broken bottle on the counter, wordlessly handing her the merlot. 

She reached out and straightened his shirt. “Have you ever thought about chugging a whole bottle by yourself?” 

Steve cocked his head. “No, and that sounds like a waste of wine, if you ask me-” 

“Oh, you just can’t do it! I am sure I can!” Thor announced, grabbing the one Natasha was gripping. Steve’s eyes narrowed and he snatched it back.

“Yeah, Steve, at least try!” Wanda egged on. He could smell a hint of her perfume as she came closer. 

He looked at the bottle. He _could_ do it. He had done it before. “I can do it,” he insisted, to raucous cheers- oh, they must have assumed it was him agreeing. Setting his face into a determined smile, he started on it. 

See, this was the problem. At least with Steve. He got a lot of shit for acting like he did, removed and bossy and private, but if he got into his before-the-ice habits, he’d end up making bad decisions, like taking every dare.

And, as he finished the bottle triumphantly, he thought that this could have been one of those decisions. 

* * *

Steve was a brave drunk. He had been told many many many _many_ times before that he was brave, but this. This added fuel to the fire. Natasha had found some Everclear. Fuckin’ Stark. Good for something, even if it was the appetite for booze their team shared. Who had 190 proof booze just _lying around_? Steve could reap the benefits, though. The couch was trashed. Clint had stolen the pillows and Laura was laying on them, watching a movie Jarvis was projecting to the ceiling. 

Steve and Nat had done a competition. A _shots_ competition. Steve won. He was still lording it over her, his proudest victory, his bestest accomplishment, he should get a certificate. Yeah. A certificate. “Thor!” he called. 

T’Challa was cuddled into him on the couch. “Yes, dear Captain!” Thor replied, looking up and blinking lazily. 

“I want a certificate. Get it. Get it in gold. _Superior shots drinker_. Make it say, make it say I beat Natasha,’” he said, smiling smugly at her. 

She groaned. “Go away. Lord your victory elsewhere, fuckhole.” 

“That is crass,” Jan told them both, sprawled out on a table. “Who’s the least drunk, you’re getting bagels in the morning.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes, whipping his head around. He didn’t want to pay for the bagels. They were so damn expensive. He’d better get more drunker, and then he’d be safe. “It’s not me,” he insisted. 

“We know it’s not you,” three people chorused back. The smile on his face was sloppy, nowhere near all American. Ha! Showed Stark. 

“Thor, if I beat you in arm wrestling, you have to eat Clint’s leftovers. All of them.” Clint poked his head up from the nest he’d made with Laura. 

“I like this plan,” he said, head lolling to the side. “Go Steve!” 

Natasha raised her eyebrows but she was excited, there was this. This Natasha glimmer in her eyes. Steve stood up tall and proud- oh, well. Maybe not steady, but he wasn’t expected to be. “Yeah, go me. Come on. Tough guy, big guy,” he jeered. “I’m stronger than you. What did you call me? Puny human? You won’t be laughing after I’m done with you,” he challenged. 

Thor growled. “Oh, and you can best me?” he laughed. “There is not _enough_ of you to do that.” 

“Must be thinking of someone else,” Steve said, stalking closer. “I’m not short. Or small. And I work out every day, you lay around and substitute the- uh, the clouds around the Tower for thoughts. Spoiler alert, that’s _moisture_ and _fog_.” 

Thor bristled. “You seem to be the tiniest of all of us, in readiness to court!” 

“Stark is the one who wears lifts in his shoes!” Natasha chimed in evilly. 

Steve burst into laughter. “C’mon, really?” he asked, breaking into a smile. “You gotta be kidding me. Well. We already knew he was, y’know, pathetic.” 

“Not pulling your punches today, huh?” Steve shrugged unsympathetically. 

“You ask him to bed,” T’Challa supplied. “If you lose.” 

Steve set his jaw. “Well, I had really better win, then,” he said. Natasha set them up, and Jan kept cracking jokes. Steve was sure he was win. Completely confident. So he opened his hand, flexed it around, and braced his shoulders. 

Thor sat across from him. “This is what pure concentration looks like. Take notes, boys,” Natasha said, crossing her legs. She had really rallied to the occasion, he’d never seen her so drunk, either. “Shot for confidence?” 

“Why not?” Steve replied, taking it and cringing away from the taste. “I better win,” he declared. 

“I hope you lose.” T’Challa cleared his throat. “No offense, of course, Captain.” 

Steve frowned deeply. “Well, it’s not gonna matter, is it? Cause I’m gonna win really good. Watch me.” Everyone was lukewarm to Stark at best. In front of him, at least. Natasha and Clint once made a game of how many old and unflattering tabloid articles they could find, after Stark had outright ditched a blind date Natasha put him on. Steve glared at the table. He’d _die_ if Stark ever thought that _Steve_ was interested in him.

“I would not be so confident,” Thor said brazenly. They clasped hands. 

Steve faltered, almost asked for _best of three_ , but before he could, Jan’s voice rang out. “Start!” 

Two sets of muscles that were more powerful than any human could dream of strained against each other. The noise from everyone else died down. Everyone was focusing on the arm wrestling. And Steve was _losing_. He was fading quickly, 10 minutes in. 

Background cheers didn’t distract him, not like they did Thor. But his grip was rock solid. “Done yet, Captain?” he teased quietly. 

And easily pressed Steve’s hand against the table.

Crestfallen, Steve stared at his traitorous palms. “Fuck,” he said, putting his forehead on the table. 

There were yelps and cheers and whoops around the table. “He’s gotta do it!” Jan kept shouting, kissing him on the hair. “Everyone’s least favorite billionaire is going to land a supersoldier!”

“You don’t have to actually sleep with him if you don’t want to. Just act-” Natasha’s voice broke with laughter. “Just act like you’re _starving_ for his dick.” She was less throaty than usual and Steve hated it! 

“You all are so mean,” he said, putting his cheek on the table and staring at the empty shotglass. “ _So_ mean.” 

* * *

  
  


“Well.” Steve closed his eyes. The world hurt badly and he did not want to be awake. There were insistent hands prying his eyes open, though; inescapable. “Steve. When are you going to do it?” 

“You thought we’d forget, didn’t you?” That was Wanda and Natasha. Terrible twosome. He cracked his eyes open. Threesome, T’Challa was there too. 

“Now, friend, I’d suggest you wine and dine him. I know of a few florists I could recommend.” 

Steve set his jaw, sitting straight up. Was his head pounding? Yes. He was going to hold onto his dignity, though. “Alright,” he agreed, voice even. “I’m not happy with you. Any of you!” he said, loud and sharp. 

Pietro jerked away, staring wide eyed at Steve. “You still have to do it.” Natasha tried her best to stare him down. He was stubborn, though, and he kept his eyes on the prize, which was to be left alone and isolated from the frustrating team he was forced to be around. “You can’t back out like that.” 

“And I’ll do it as soon as I’m done here,” Steve hissed. “But listen up, you’ll clean this room and stop fucking around after missions. We all make our worst decisions then, I’m tired of it.” 

“Steve…” 

“Don’t say my name,” Steve replied venomously. The thing about having a higher rank than the people you lived with, it was that there was a thin line between friendship and the casual relationships Steve couldn’t afford to keep. “I want it clean.” He walked out, shoulders hunched in. 

There were 2 elevators leading off of the Avengers floor, one for everyone normal and one for the penthouse. Some silly privacy thing kept Stark from having a normal elevator to his floor. The two of them looked the same on first glance, but once Steve stepped into the other elevator, it was all glamour. Two of the walls were mirrored, which he could very much appreciate, but there was an insanely glitzy golden ceiling and floors that wouldn’t be out of place in an exclusive Italian showroom. 

If Stark was to be believed, they were custom made. Steve couldn’t help it, when his face went sour out of it. He groaned again, staring at one of the blank walls and leaning back. This was a nightmare. Even more embarrassing was how cocky he had been. Well, that wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t _lost_. The elevator stopped. 

He took a deep breath. He didn’t spend much time here, had an all over distaste for Stark and everything to do with him. Especially the grandeur. The first room or two wasn’t so bad. Ostentatious, certainly, and that TV seemed improbably large, but not bad. But after that it looked like Stark had tried to make every room that got closer to his bedroom fancier, just to prove that he was the fanciest thing in the building. 

Steve bit his lip to suppress a laugh, just imagining Stark wearing a pair of pink sweats with rhinestones on the ass, advertising _precious goods inside_. He knocked on the door. “Come in?” 

That voice was not Stark’s. It was soft and sleepy, kind of quiet. A voice Steve _liked_ that was not _grating_ \- Steve groaned quietly, considering turning right back around so he didn’t ask Stark out while someone was in bed with him. He opened the door to see Stark lounging- not lounging. 

Passed out on the bed, still in a bathrobe. He was sleeping. And Steve held back a smile. Stark turned over onto his belly, pushing his face into the bed. It was sumptuous, yeah, but for once Steve didn’t hate it. He wouldn’t blame a man for wanting the best bed money could buy. First thing he did in the future was get a nice mattress. 

God. He was having a crisis. He couldn’t ask Stark out as a trick, it would be rude. Had they told him to ask Stark out, like a date, or had they wanted him to just ask him to bed? Steve couldn’t recall. “Long night?” he teased. 

“I wish it was longer,” Stark groaned. “Lemme sleep.” 

Steve’s hand hovered over the doorknob. Part of him wanted to take a hike. Part of him wanted to date Stark for real. It would be… an experience. Imagine seeing something like this every other morning? Steve cleared his throat, lip curling. God, what was he thinking? Only time of day he would go near Stark was the morning. “Do you need a moment, or can I spit it out and get outta here?” 

“St-Rogers?” Stark stiffened, standing up. He fell into a lazy sort of pose, eyeing Steve in a way he didn’t like. “What’s with the hair? And the eyes? The stains? Did you get into the hard drugs? Finally, I’ve been waiting.” 

He moved weird. Normally, he was like a gliding swan, but he looked stiff when he ambled closer. “Got into the Everclear, actually.” Steve had to _sell it_. He put a hand on Stark’s arm. 

“Rea-lly?” Steve shrugged, catching his eye. Stark chewed on his lip. Was he actually interested? Was this working? “Now, how’d that work out for you?” 

“Ugh,” Steve couldn’t help but to reply. “I’m sure you can guess.” 

“I’ll bet I can.” Stark leaned back and took him in again. Then, he snapped his fingers. “I’ll make you my hangover cure. Works like a charm.” He winked. 

Now, he had to be wondering why Steve was here. Instead of making an excuse, he just followed patiently. They entered the kitchen. “I hope so. My headache is killer.” 

Stark grabbed at his hand. “Take this.” Multivitamins. “Just had them formulated for you, all special.” 

Steve flushed, pleased- oh Lord, why was he this flattered?- by the attention. It was a sweet thing to do, really. “Thanks so much.” 

“What brings you up here?” 

Steve hesitated, not wanting to break the spell. He distracted himself by staring at Stark. The robe was a little loose on him, showed a little too much chest, and his hair was rumpled and soft. There was the very faded hint of a bruise on his shoulder. Steve locked his arms to keep from touching it. Any of it. “Too loud,” he ended up murmuring. “My headache is bad and- I don’t know.” 

There was a very surprised look on Stark’s face. Steve couldn’t place it. “So you decided to come up here, huh? Give me a second,” he said, fixing a piece of fruit on top of a very brown looking drink. “The fruit is to make it taste better,” he supplied. 

Steve downed it in one go. Food was food. “That’s not pleasant. Do you have this a lot?” 

“A man never tells,” Stark replied immediately. He sidled closer to Steve’s chair. And by God, Steve didn’t move away. “I can help with the headache.” 

  
He buried one of his hands into Steve’s hair. Steve couldn’ help but push his head into the massage. The longer it went on, the more his shoulders slumped. “Jeez- thanks,” he finally said. His head felt better than it had in years.

“All that jaw clenching can’t be good for your skull,” Stark added helpfully. “Coffee?” 

Steve swallowed. “I’m here to ask you on a date.” 

“You- you are?” Stark had never looked more honest, or surprised. “You hate me. Jarvis, intruder alert!” he said. 

Steve scowled. He thought he’d been more subtle. “If you know I hate you, why did you just agree to make me your weird smoothie thing? And my, my head massage? Huh? What was that for?” 

“Uh, I’m a decent person? Come on, _Rogers_ ,” Stark spat. His eyes turned sharp like knives and he tightened like one of Clint’s bowstrings. “What’s your angle? I can accept things like coming to see me, you realize, you’re the type to try and make friends with people you think are morally reprehensible.” Steve flinched back. 

“I don’t think that,” he said lowly. 

“Don’t you?” Stark paused. “Sure, yeah. That’s really what I thought. So what’s the angle?” He poked the center of Steve’s chest and finished a circle around the island, standing loosely. 

Steve stared at the floor. “It was a bet,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Steve stood up, backing towards the elevator. The silence hung between them, and he was sure that if he looked up, Stark’s face would be a little hurt. 

The rest of the team, like Steve, sometimes forgot he was… a person. It barely made sense in Steve’s head, but he knew how Clint used to idolize Stark and how that went crashing and burning from the first quippy insult. The idol came crashing down, but instead of revealing a real man, it was another mask. This time, it was one that was all too easy to hate. Steve had never hated Stark that badly. Wanda, Pietro, Clint, _Nat_. They were a different story. Thor found him proud and not accommodating. T’Challa had only heard stories. 

They weren’t flattering. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, opening and closing empty fists. 

Stark walked closer. “Well. I’m inclined to forgive you.” Steve’s head shot up in surprise. “Come on, I’m not heartless. And if you hadn’t come to wake me up, I’d be awoken, cruelly, I may add, by one of Jarvis’ alarms.” He looked up. “You can sit down.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” Steve took a seat again. 

“You’re welcome. You still need your coffee, don’t you?” Stark drank at his own. “Here’s the deal, Rogers, I’ll be blunt with you. I’m tired of being big bad man in the Tower.” 

“Oh- okay.” On the surface, he seemed cool as a cucumber, but Stark’s fingers were twisting around the mug. They were pretty fingers, large and they might be nice to hold, if Steve was ever the type to hold hands. 

“So you’re my in, okay? We slept together after you burst in on me in the shower, yadda yadda yadda, best sex of your life, and long story short, we’re dating.” Steve didn’t reply, just eyed Stark. “No, I want stupid Natasha Romanoff to like me, by God, I want her to let me call her Nat. You owe me, you made a stupid bet and tried to commit a crime on me, the likes of which I’ve only seen in romcoms, so you owe me this. Or not.” He squinted. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

“Fine,” Steve grumbled. The head massage had been nice. “Dinners are on you, though. And getting with me won’t give you a lot of luck with the team, I’m not that close to them.” 

Stark didn’t say anything else, just pushed Steve’s coffee over and let him drink away. 

* * *

Tony couldn’t fathom _why_ he had done it. Hurt feelings? Leverage? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was getting dressed- a nice, airy Tom Ford layered over a good looking patterned silk top- and Steve Rogers was in his bedroom, stained, tight black t-shirt and all.   
  


Was he tired of the constant snide comments, the way they were ungrateful? Yes, absolutely. Did it physically feel like a blow to his chest when he entered a room and everything shifted around like the winds had changed and brought a bad smell with them? Sure. Did he like the way Steve had let Tony indulge him? Why the hell wouldn’t he! It was a dream come true that he might reach lukewarm relations with the people he was giving room and board to. 

God. That sounded pathetic. “Done yet?” Rogers yelled. 

“You can come in, if that’s what you’re asking!” he replied playfully. Play it cool, Stark. You didn’t get through college with a bedpost full of notches for nothing. “Tie or no tie?” 

“No tie is unprofessional-” Tony waltzed into the room, standing for inspection. Rogers paused. “No tie looks good.” 

Well, well, well. That was quite the reaction. “Are we thinking you introduce me as your boyfriend right away? Or do we play up some flaming sexual tension first?” 

Rogers stared at him. “Uh, your choice?” 

“So option two,” Tony said approvingly. “I hate putting gel in my hair,” he grumbled, wandering back to the bathroom and raising his voice. “It’s so annoying and it makes it crackly.” 

“Just leave it out.” Steve had his shoulder pressed up on the doorway. 

“Don’t be scared to come in, there’s plenty of room.” He stood aside, gesturing at the mirror. “If you’re nervous, we don’t have to do this. I won’t even hold the… bet over your head. It was cruel, but hey! I’m used to it!” Now Rogers just looked guilty. Or like he was about to cry. Both. Tony had done the exact opposite of what he wanted, he’d wanted to reassure. “I’m serious. It’s a dick move if I’m forcing you into this.” 

“I’m good with it,” Rogers sighed softly. “I’ve never done this before.” Golden retriever turns into war vet, catch it on the news at 9! He switched so easily, Tony had to wonder how used to it he was. Did he act like a big, soft puppy just in private, by his lonesome? Or were there other people finding this Steve? 

“I’m glad.” Tony bit his lip. “I just want them to keep an open mind,” he began, frustrated. “Is that so hard? Seriously, what did I _do_? If I knew, I would fix it! Jan doesn’t have a problem with me, right? What did I do with her that I didn’t do with you? Honest answer.” 

Rogers ruffled his hair, looking away. “I don’t like you cause you’re rich? And it’s pretty hard to like someone that your best friend hates so much.” His eyes narrowed. Oh, Tony had really shot himself in the foot. “Iron Man knows your secrets and he doesn’t have the highest opinion of you, _Mr. Stark_.” 

Yup. Shot himself straight in the foot. “I can tell you’re mad about that, Steve, but Iron Man and I share a special relationship that defies the laws of friendship. Don’t take it to heart, he doesn’t have many mutual friends who also know me. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise it’s a- a skewed viewpoint. Okay?” Every word felt measured. He had to watch what he said. 

“Got it,” Steve replied slowly. “I promised I would do this, and I will. Just please don’t use it against me.” 

Tony stood up on tiptoes. “Affirmative. Babe.” He kissed the tip of Steve’s nose. “I’m off to work, don’t trash the place while I’m gone. Remember. We’re sharing inescapable sexual tension.” 

Steve smiled helplessly and Tony turned on his heel. 

* * *

Steve didn’t know quite what had just happened, but he knew he was somehow wrangled into Stark’s web of manipulations. As manipulations went, it wasn’t too bad. Steve had never had a hard time fitting in, and if he didn’t, he usually didn’t much care, but apparently billionaires were sensitive. They wanted that kind of thing. His first instinct was to scoff but he pushed it down. 

He tousled his hair. Took off the shirt. Stark had a boar bristle brush and it could pass for beard burn, maybe. God. What had he come to? He flexed his feet, rocking back. He _looked_ like he’d been fucked. Now he needed to fake some shame and secrecy. 

That was easy enough. He didn’t actually want anyone to see, so he’d just do his best to get by with no one actually seeing him. He’d been up here an hour and a half, by now. Just hanging around and finishing off some eggs in the fridge. He chewed on his lip, thinking critically. He would go down the back stairs. If he knew his team, they’d be nosing around for him by now. The back stairs were a good bet, most likely not foolproof. 

Like a black ops mission, he crept down the stairs and breathed a short sigh of relief when he found no one waiting. He listened close. There were three hallways running criss cross, with Avengers room stationed in between them. Clint and Laura were making breakfast, sizzling bacon drowning out their conversation. He prowled along the far hallway, which was least populated. That was where Banner, and very occasionally, Carol, lived. Steve scratched at his face. Beard burn had _seemed_ like a good idea. 

He tensed when he heard an approaching noise, flattening himself against the wall. “You watch the back staircase,” Thor said, in his quiet voice. 

“Isn’t this rude, friend?” That was T’Challa, in the lowest whisper Steve had ever heard. 

“Ah, but you forget that we _deserve_ to know,” Thor said teasingly. “Wait with me here.” 

So he’d just avoided disaster. Steve swallowed and kept moving, the picture of stealth. The brush of his jeans-clad legs was barely noise, and it fit in with the rumbling of the A/C right below them. He tiptoed through into the hallway with his room, making one last run into his room. The door closed tight behind him and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“He’s shirtless!” Wanda yelled. “I didn’t expect this from you, Steven Grant Rogers!” He was going to kill her. _Everyone_ had heard that. He marched forward. 

“Get out! I don’t want you in my business,” he growled. How to sell it? He covered his nipples with his hands. It was the best he could do. “Really, Wanda, get the hell out!” he shouted. 

“Oh my God!” she squeaked, equal parts fascinated and ever so slightly betrayed. 

Fuck. Steve banged his head on the wall. He didn’t want this stupid, stupid thing to play out like this. Instead of them liking Steve and it spreading to Stark, it was the other way around. How was he supposed to run a team when he was faking scorching sexual tension with their most hated billionaire? 

Fuck.

* * *

  
  


The charity ball was one Tony appreciated. Pep had an eye for aesthetics and it showed in the decorations. He liked the suit he wore, a classic one, and he very much liked the venue. Crystal Palaces could go either way. Sky high ceilings and understated elegance everywhere or shit motel in Arizona. Obviously, it was the first one. 

He moved through the party, mostly sarcastic unless he really wanted a donation. “Where are your pet heroes, then, Stark?” Chuckles sounded around the circle. 

“About ten minutes late, now, aren’t they?” Henryson asked Tony. 

“Oh, I’m sure they’re arriving late. It’s hard in this economy, for those of us that don’t have wallets like yours, to get somewhere. I enjoyed the entrance.” No, Tony had not. He’d never heard of something more pretentious than arriving by helicopter. It was loud, irritating, and his wife’s hair looked terrible. She was angry, Tony was angry, and this man’s ego was still being buttered up. 

Never mind. Tony _hated_ parties. “I knew you’d appreciate that. Flashy young thing, like you.” 

“I do like my grand entrances,” Tony agreed. Not anymore. He was content to fade into the background. 

“Is that them, now?” Tony turned to the door. For one, heart stopping second, he felt his heart seize. He thought that the reactor must be broken, wildly, before he realized. Steve- Rogers- he was there at the door. They were a fashionable bunch. 

Jan was out, she hated these things. But like Henryson had said, the rest of them were Tony’s pet heroes. Implications aside, Tony would have to agree. In a bitter sort of way. “I’ll say hello, you have fun without me.” Tony winked. “And I was about to suggest you check out the charities, they’re very important to me.” Henryson nodded placidly, following orders. 

The upper crust had no mind of their own. “We’re here,” Romanoff led with, snappy and guarded. 

“Where do you want us, manning the champagne? Or do we get real food at this one?” 

“Only if you’ve been a good boy,” Barton added on, glancing over at Rogers. T’Challa didn’t show up to these, and Tony was half glad for that, he didn’t want to deal with the fucking- _Post,_ or something, running articles that suggested Tony had a king under his thumb. He was probably getting busy with Thor in Tony’s Tower. 

“I’m serious. Stark, what do you want us doing?” Rogers asked, rolling his shoulders back. 

  
Tony didn’t have to fake the close interest he took in the movement of the muscles. He finally looked up, slow, into Rogers’ eyes. “Whatever is good,” he said, reaching out and offering a glass of champagne. “Stick with me, for a good time.”   
  


He smiled charmingly; Rogers bit his lip, sucking down hard and trying not to look too close. They were playing their roles to perfection. Wanda was also staring at him, at Tony, but more in an _I’m hellbent on your complete destruction_ way. Come to think of it, most of the team was. Tony chuckled awkwardly. “Here, you know the charity? This one is one of my favorites,” he said, face softening into a smile. 

Again, Steve shifted, his shoulders flexing like he was trying his level best not to jump Tony’s bones. He was a natural at this. Tony rubbed at one of the old bruises on his shoulder, facing away from Rogers. “I know this one, slightly.” That was already an improvement. Romanoff sounded calculating, not utterly devoid of emotion. 

“Right?” Tony smiled sincerely. “It’s for flood victims in major areas of poverty, I like it because we mostly just give handouts to the people that need them. Direct stuff. See how much you can get them to donate.” He squinted at a group of near identical, balding men. “If need be, just steal their checkbooks.” 

“Was that a joke?” 

Tony paused. “Sure, let’s say it is.” That coaxed a smile from Barton. “Hey, where’s your girlfriend? I thought you might bring here, I got a place set and everything.” 

“Sweet of you, Stark, but I don’t think this one is her scene.” 

  
Tony shrugged. “Not mine, either. She better thank her lucky stars that she’s not required to be here,” he laughed. “Give me a moment, an hour, and then regroup. After dinner start making excuses to leave and just… get the hell out of dodge.” 

He considered Rogers again, the long slope of his neck and his long, dark eyelashes. “We’ll make sure to do that, Tony.” Ooh. First name basis. What an improvement. Tony couldn’t think of an excuse to stay, so, so he left. Walked on out. 

The night changed, and the taste of good wine and less good cocktails filled the air more and more. One by one, Romanoff left, and Barton. Maximoff had slipped out awhile ago. The only ones left were Steve. And Tony. At some point, it occurred to Tony that a natural course of action to a _faked_ relationship was a faked breakup. That- or getting together. “Why don’t we go home together, tonight?” he asked quietly, getting into Steve’s space. 

He jumped about a foot in the air and Tony grimaced. “Jesus,” Steve breathed. 

“Sorry. And I think we should keep up the illusion and spend the night together.” 

Rogers groaned. “Do you know how much of a nightmare it was to sneak back in this morning?” 

“Aww, did the poor supersoldier get sad that he wasn’t sneaky enough? Come on, it’s necessary. We fake the sleeping together a couple times, here, I’ll even go to your room.” He smiled smoothly, tiredly. “It’s fine if you don’t want,” he added again. 

“No, no,” Steve sighed. “I’ll take the floor.” Tony headed towards the exit, ducking the last few stragglers. 

“I can, no need.” He’d be damned if he put Steve out too much. The sidewalk was cold, when they stepped out onto it. Jarvis had probably already called ahead for the chauffeur. Disappointingly, it wasn’t Happy. “You deserve your own bed,” Tony chuckled. “I mean, I already kept you here all night.” 

Steve hummed, annoyed. “I really don’t care, Stark,” he said, each word clipped. Tony sighed and decided to just take the kindness at face value. 

“That’s sweet of you,” he said, entering the car. His head rested on the backrest and he sighed slowly, deeply exhausted and ready to crawl into a bed, any bed, any time. 

“I can return the favor,” Steve said tightly. Unbidden, one of his hands reached up to Tony’s hair. 

“Did you not hear me say crunchy?” Tony replied, slouching. “I don’t think you want to snap off my hair- or. You do hate me.” Steve scowled and fell into an identical slump. 

Tony tipped his head back, staring at the roof of the car. It rolled through city streets and the gentle jostling pushed him towards the abyss of sleep. 

He only woke when the car stopped and a gentle, too gentle voice- more than he deserved- whispered in his ear, “Wake up.” He didn’t deserve that gentleness, he supposed, but he still rolled over and pressed his ear to that gentle chest. “Stark. Wake up.” 

Tony winced at the harsh tone, eyes snapping open. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Jarvis, anyone up?” 

  
They walked through the garage to the elevator. “Negative, sir.” 

Steve cleared his throat. “And no one’s in my room?” A dark look passed his face. Ouch. Tony had been on the receiving end of that glower more than once, and truth be told, he despised it. Like he’d been thinking just- oh God, just last night- he had a very large, vulnerable soft spot for Steve Rogers and it did hurt when he was so obviously the kind of man he looked down on. 

“Your room is clear, Captain Rogers.” Tony tugged off one of the buttons on his shirt so it was half undone and he raised an eyebrow at the way Steve was shuffling through the halls. 

“Why are we so-” 

“Shh!” Steve shut the door behind both of them, glancing quickly at Tony’s face. “They’re all gossips,” he explained, backing towards the bed. 

“Huh.” Tony sat down. “Well, I’ll bed down for the night, I’ll join everyone for breakfast tomorrow morning-” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“What?” Tony cocked his head. “Why?” 

“Um.” Steve laughed weakly. “You really think they’re going to take well to that? We- they. Don’t like you. Honestly, Stark, the most I know about you is that you’re Iron Man’s terrible boss. And he’s never painted a pretty picture. I thought you knew this.” 

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Alright,” he said eventually, digging his toes into the plush carpet. “Fine, I’ll sneak out or something. The plan is to go from fuckbuddies to friends, okay? Because I don’t want a big break up.” 

“Works for me,” Steve said obstinately. He sounded like it didn’t work for him. Oh well. 

Tony settled into bed, Rogers on the floor, and they both slept easy. 

* * *

Surprisingly, it was Tony who woke up first. He was asleep one instant and awake the next, frowning at the ceiling. It smelled wrong in this bed, but in a good way, like this strange mix of aftershave and home cooking would soak in his skin and leave him balmy content for weeks. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He was still in his boxers and an undershirt that covered the reactor. Nice.

When he checked the floor, Steve was drooling in his sleep. Tony smiled, straightening and crawling out of bed. He wanted to moan in pain, why was it so _cold_? He picked his way across the room, leaning on the doorway. 9:00. Someone had to be up. He swallowed his misgivings and snuck out of the room, making a beeline for the elevator. 

Was he faking it? Yes. Did it still feel like he was absolutely sneaking out of his hookup’s house? Yes. Whatever. Tony wanted them to see; it set his stomach dropping to even be in the same room with them sometimes. He just wanted a little humanity. Or something. God, he was rattled. What was going on in his head? 

“Stark?!” He jumped, turning around. “Oh my God!” he screeched.

He and Clint Barton stared at each other, both wide eyed. Tony blinked, still sleepy. Iron Man was good friends with Clint. They liked to tease each other. To be truthful, Barton never hurt a fly. Worst he’d done was that tabloids nightmare. Someone had started copying the tabloid pictures and accompanying articles, passing em out as flyers. 

“Barton,” he said, reaching for the button. “I’m off to get donuts, you want any?” 

“Oh my God, oh my God! Oh my _God_! I didn’t think it was true!” 

“Clint, what- oh my God!” Jan screeched. Tony rubbed self consciously at his face. There was a crease in it, and his hair was sticking up at wild angles. 

“I better go, I’m pretty tired…”   
  


Clint opened his mouth and yelled from his chest. “Steve slept with Stark again!” 

“Walk of shame?” Romanoff skidded into the room, smile splitting her face. “Oh, very nice.”   
  


“I’m going back to bed,” Tony muttered, backing into the cab of the elevator.

“Is Steve any good?” Jan cackled. No. Tony flipped them all off. And promptly smiled, small, as the elevator began to rise. It was almost like he was one of them. His plan was working. 

* * *

The next 3 weeks were actually relatively nice. Easygoing, even. If Steve was to be believed, they were slowly warming up to him, in between the occasional faked walk of shame and the times that Tony would be too distracted pretending to yearn for Steve’s caboose to make quips at everyone. Ha! Jokes on them- he’d been yearning for Steve, and not just his ass, for years, and he could still focus on insulting people during Avengers meetings. 

Point was, the only people still truly mad at him were the Maximoff twins and Thor, for some reason, who glared Tony down every time he turned his seductive gaze in Steve’s direction. Tony was half sure that Thor wasn’t Steve’s jilted lover. When he suggested as much, one morning, as each of them were laying on a bed, Steve on the pullout couch and Tony on the king size, he burst into laughter. 

There were these moments of true tension, too. Not… not purple prose. Not Victorian era longing glances, and not the rescue romance they could have been, a thousand years ago, had Tony not been Iron Man and they really had met on the Helicarrier. Because if Tony weren’t Iron Man, Steve would have saved him while he was on the ground- if Tony knew himself, and he did, he would have done as much as he could to help fight the Chitauri. Even if it meant going in with one gun and huddled like an apocalypse victim. Whatever it meant. It was the perfect setup to a rescue romance. Too bad he’d fucked it to hell with his secret identity. 

There was that potential that had faded long ago and there was new tension, too. Every time Steve swallowed, Tony felt it resonate somewhere in him and a brief urge to kiss him rose up. More than that, he was getting to know Steve a little better and the other way around. There was late night talk, like pillowtalk but different, when Tony would normally be pretending to be asleep, alone. There was the looser and looser smiles Steve gave to him. Day by day they just. Changed. 

Until one day, almost exactly 3 weeks later, Tony had invited Steve to his penthouse to watch a movie. He was stealing bites of chocolate covered popcorn while Steve was enamored with the special effects. 

Avengers alarm. Steve’s breath caught and he stood staight up. “You. Stay,” he said, pushing Tony down. “I’ll get you when the crisis is over, alright? Hawkeye!” His voice was a resounding boom. 

“Cap!” Clint jogged up the stairs, he was the only one home. He didn’t even look at Tony. Any normal civilian would be in awe of the focus, the determination. Any normal civilian would be crying from stress. 

“Team’s going to assemble in less than 5- I want you to get Stark to his safe room.” They still hadn’t dropped the Stark habit. 

Tony couldn’t show his annoyance. Any normal civilian wouldn’t be annoyed for this protection, but then, Tony wasn’t normal, or technically a civilian. “I don’t need that, you both go,” Tony snapped. 

They both looked at him in tandem, with the same steely glare. “Non-negotiable, Stark. Hawkeye, you take care of it.” Without another word, just a warning look, Steve made a bang as he crashed through the exit door and down the stairs. 

Clint didn’t drop his stance or his bow, but he did relax slightly. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Tony’s elbow and taking him towards the back of the penthouse. “He’s right, you’re a high profile target and I think he’s taken a liking to you. We want you safe.” 

Tony couldn’t help but poke the bear. “Oh, _he_ has taken a liking to me? None of the rest of you?” 

“You’re my favorite billionaire,” Clint replied, heavy on the sarcasm. “Get in.” Tony sighed, walking into the safe room. 

“I could have done this myself,” he said in frustration. 

“Ah, he’s going to appreciate the fact that I had eyes on you.” And Clint pressed the button that locked it down.   
  
Tony groaned loudly, putting his forehead on the wall. He had designed this room as an _actual_ safe room, and Fury had his hands in it, so it functioned as such- he was going to be stuck in here. “Alright, J,” he said, turning to the holotable. “Iron Man’s going remote.” 

The battle was tough and vicious and if he was _in_ the suit, Tony would be bruised and beaten and broken. Instead, he had the luxury of throwing the suit in front of the other Avengers and letting it take the blows. Maybe this thing was nice, really, maybe it was useful that he could sacrifice himself when it would only be metal crunching under the force of the rebuilt Chitauri. 

By the end of the fight, though, he was exhausted. Slumped over the table, staring into the screen as Iron Man rocketed up. “Iron Man!” Cap called. “You look injured!” 

“Nah, Cap,” Tony replied, the sound filtering out through the speakers. “All good, for once. Where’s the rest of the party happening? Hey, Fury, I want a pinata!” 

“Debrief is now,” Cap replied, leading the way. They fell into neat formation behind him, even Thor, who, by all rights, was not the best at following. Only person he listened to outside of the battlefield was T’Challa. Were they _friends,_ though? Or more? He clamped his lips shut to keep from asking. 

“Thanks for giving me the 3 weeks off, I needed them. Too bad about the tech,” Tony said. “I was hoping to make it a month.” 

“Stark hasn’t been using you?” Steve asked, digging a toe into the dirt as they waited for entrance into Fury’s tent. 

“Nah. I’m getting some free time. Only consulting.” Tony cleared his throat, making sure it didn’t pass through the speakers. 

There was a silence between all of them that was more tense than usual. Part of him knew what it was, and the other part didn’t want to think of it. It was like a scale. The more they liked Tony Stark, the less they liked Iron Man. He could admit, honestly, that he’d taken the opportunity to shit on himself whenever he could, in the cold confines of the suit. But the self hatred from after the bomb- the invasion- had died down. It had taken years, yeah, but he didn’t hate himself anymore. 

  
It seemed kind of fitting that he was just coming to this realization _now_ , when the past had popped back up with these pieced together alien ships. New growth. New trees. “Enter,” Fury snapped. The body of Iron Man followed obediently.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> additional added warnings:  
> Tony gets injured from a fight, and is close to death. this includes head injuries, broken bones, and good old surgery. There is a VERY brief reference to suicide, in the context of Tony assuming Steve is, and Steve immediately correcting the assumption.
> 
> ANYWAY!! hope you like it!!
> 
> WAIT they also have fade to black sex. i don’t write explicit content so? i don’t think there’s much to worry about

Debrief ended and Tony came to, like he’d been stuck in the eye of a hurricane, full of concentration and heroism, and now that the battle was over and done, he was back to his real self. “Ugh,” he said in a strained voice, unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting heavily on the chair nearest to him. “ _ Ugh _ .” He could barely raise his hand. 

“Avengers approaching.” 

He forced his back to straighten and a pleasant smile appeared on his face. “How is it, Steve?” he asked, voice turning concerned. “Everyone turn out okay? Trusty Iron Man fulfill his purpose?” 

Wanda was with him, looking terribly battered. “Iron Man is a lot more than a purpose.” 

Tony rested a hand on Steve’s forearm, like a reminder that they needed to be cordial. Or at least fulfill a quota of sexual tension. “He performed well,” Wanda said. 

“I’m glad.” He smiled deeply at her. “You need painkillers? Let me- one sec. Let me find some. The two of you look like crap.” 

“Say that again and Pietro will bludgeon your head.”

Tony jerked, staring at her. “I don’t mean it that way, you- you have some blood, is the thing, battles are hard on you all…” 

She smiled and he relaxed. “I know you’re just teasing. And it’s sweet that you’re playing housewife to Steve, he really does need it.” 

Steve’s nostrils flared. Tony suppressed a laugh. “I’m not playing housewife to him,” he said. See? Look at him. Respecting Steve’s wishes to be the least affectionate fake fuckbuddies in existence. 

“Did you ask him?” Thor asked, appearing in the doorway. “Stark, we have something to ask you!” 

“Do you?” His brow crinkled and he stood up, muscles protesting. 

He was not going to fall over. Or just pitch into a chair and lay there. Exhaustion was no excuse. “We want you to come to the camping retreat,” Jan said brightly. 

“What are you doing up, Hawkeye?” Steve asked, blowing out a breath. “Did you or did you not pull a muscle? Nat- you too! You sprained your ankle! Both of you lay down.”    
  


“Am I finally an It girl now? Am I in the club? I’m sure I have time to go on the camping trip, I’ll clear my schedule,” he said, barely containing his excitement. Steve hadn’t really reacted to the question, or the reply, beyond a minute tightening of his broad, muscled shoulders. 

“Great.” Wanda and Pietro were basically neutral on him, by now, and he had Steve watching movies in his penthouse- he had Natasha agreeing to let him on this camping trip, it was the most they’d spoken. 

“Great!” he replied. “I’ll shower. Next month we leave, right?” 

Clint shot him a thumbs up. “Yeah, Stark. Next month.” Good old Steve. He was so cautious.  _ Thank you _ , Tony mouthed once no one was looking. 

And Steve just nodded. 

  
_____________________

Tony pulled Steve through the door of the elevator, tapping the top of his black tie. “Anyone see you?” 

“All of them,” Steve replied sulkily. Tony had snuck through the back stairs, again, and snagged Steve from the kitchen where he’d been obliviously consuming a truly terrible amount of chocolate cake, and then dragged his fake-fuckbuddy through the entrance and into the elevator. All in five short minutes. “You were lucky.” 

“Good,” Tony said in satisfaction. “I got you some garlic bread.” 

“I wanted cake,” Steve retorted. 

Tony flapped his hands. “I’ll get one sent in tomorrow, Cap.” Steve went straight in for the garlic bread after the doors slid open. “How’s the day? I last saw you when you were saving me from my safe room, right?” 

Steve nodded, cramming a slice into his mouth. “Uh, good day, I guess. Thanks for asking.” 

Tony stared at him intently. The more he came to know Steve, the worse this confusion got. Because he’d never seen Captain America eat bread like that, even as Iron Man. “I had a good day, too. I set up a neat little deal to get my buddy Rhodey to fly in the Quinjet, no charge. I wouldn’t have a problem with paying someone, but the military says I have to pay  _ them  _ since it’s such a dangerous vehicle.” 

Steve made a face. “It’s nice that you got your friend to do it.” 

“Isn’t it?” Tony smiled. “I’ll get us some wine.” 

“I don’t think you wanna waste it on me, Stark-” 

“Kindly shut up, thank you. I’ll waste my wine on whoever I want.” 

Steve bobbed his head in acknowledgement. He rose from his chair, eye on the pantry. “That’s alright, then.” 

Tony got the bottle open and poured two generous glasses. “They put out a new Tom Cruise movie, I got it. Want to watch it?” Steve nodded, drinking deeply. 

“Sure, Stark, where-” 

“Couch is good.” Tony followed him, sitting on the other end of the couch and putting on the movie. Technically, it was still only supposed to be in theaters. He’d gotten it anyway. Starring a large dog, Zendaya, and two largely unknown indie actors playing his brothers, it was a bit of a weird one. Tony wouldn’t watch it again. 

“Do you actually like this shit?” he asked. 

“This movie is terrible,” Tony snorted. “I’m sorry you have to sit through it. If you want to watch something else, I’m taking suggestions as we speak.” Steve smiled half heartedly. 

“I would have never wasted my money on this, at home.” At home? Did he mean… “I would have never sat through something so. I don’t know. Don’t you get bored of this?” 

“Of what?” Tony frowned, looking between the screen and Steve’s shadowy eyes. 

“All of it? The films, and the… the inventions? The women? Dealing with all of us?”    
  


Tony blinked. “Well, no, not really. Do you?” 

Immediately, Steve answered, accidentally catching his eyes. “Yes. Yes, all the time, it all feels so, so-” 

“How was it different? When you were younger?” 

Steve considered it, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “The people were different. Everything was different.” 

“I imagine it must be hard to jump through so many decades,” Tony admitted. 

Steve snorted. “You have no clue.” His face twisted. As Iron Man, Tony had never seen this, either. “I keep thinking about my Ma… Soon, it’s going to be 100 years since she’s died. I don’t want to see  _ that  _ anniversary.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “You need to talk to someone about that.” 

Steve shook his head. “First of all, I don’t talk about that sort of thing, and two… I don’t want to die. I want to live, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t want to die two centuries after I was born. It’s a nightmare, isn’t it?” He slouched down. 

“I’ll put on Top Gun.” Tony signalled to Jarvis and the opening credits began. “Need to talk any more?” 

Steve grinned. “No, I guess I’ve gotten it all out. Thanks for listening in.” Tony nodded. 

“Anytime.” He knocked over Steve’s wineglass as he tried to get to the kitchen, right into his lap. “Goddamn it- sorry, Steve-” 

“Don’t stress about it, Stark. I guess it’s time to get back downstairs anyway.” He stretched, bones cracking. “Night.” The last thing Tony saw as he left was his back. 

Well. By the time their camping trip rolled around, they only had a week to go, he’d know that man like the back of his hand. 

_____________________

Even with the once or twice a week sleepover, Tony hadn’t spent a lot of concentrated time around the Avengers. Apart from the retreats he’d gone to  _ as  _ Iron Man. He packed his bag, just one, and tucked the suitcase somewhere discreet, playing it off as work. It was quickly occurring to him, honestly, that his double identity might not be the best idea. It would come out someday. He’d have to field those reactions, he’d have to keep his spot on the team too. Tricky business. He sucked on his bottom lip, stretching his legs out. 

They were taking two cars, one with the twins, Natasha, and T’Challa, and the other with Jan, Steve, and Tony. Thor was flying. Tony  _ wished  _ he could fly. “Iron Man said he would only be able to attend for some of the days.” Three of four. 

Jan winced. “Aww, Steve, don’t be too bummed. Tony can be your buddy.” 

They met eyes and Tony released his lip, smiling widely. “Thanks, but I doubt Stark is going to handle the physical activity we’re managing here. Iron Man was a better- he was the  _ perfect  _ match.” 

Tony sighed heavily. This would be done with, soon. He would be able to pretend the heat had died down and he would definitely be able to break off from Steve, now that he had the foundation. “I’m good with sitting out of these activities until Iron Man is gone,” he said comfortably. “I can get work done.” 

Jan nodded, looking closely at them. “You two want to share a bed, right?” 

“Don’t assume,” Steve snorted. “I’m happy on my own.” 

Tony nodded in agreement. “This isn’t tent camping, I’m sure there’s more than enough room that we each get our own bed, right?” 

“Right, but…” 

“No buts, I think we have it figured out.” Tony would have liked to share a bed with Steve. He seemed like a snugglebug. “Seriously, Jan.” 

“Alright.” She hesitated, mouth resting on the beginning of a word. “Alright.” 

After they arrived, Tony jumped out of the car, suit in hand. “Hey, Stark!” 

“Uh, yeah?” he asked, turning around, the suit swinging from his hand. 

“Where are you going?” 

Tony smiled at the pair of friends. “Conference call, I really gotta jet, thank you so much for driving me.” And he spun away in a whirlwind of secrecy, hoping that the rest of the weekend would run smoothly. 

_____________________

Smooth was not the right word. The Avengers camping vacation was no company retreat. They were the most hardcore group of bastards Tony had met in his life. They started the weekend with a 2 on 1, with a bang. Thor facing off against Steve and T’Challa. Iron Man was stationed in the back, watching as they circled the ring. 

T’Challa went in for a tackle first, and Steve attacked from the other side. Both of them were hanging by a thread, but it got Thor on the defensive, which was a good mood. Nat had that analytical look in her eyes. “Go Thor!” Natasha whooped. 

“What’re you thinking,  _ Go Cap! _ Go T’Challa!” Clint said. “Hey, don’t bitch at me, I like underdogs!” 

Thor was on his back, but he’d flung Steve across the ring, and he was on the ground. Natasha whistled low. “Come on, Captain, get it up!” 

He struggled to his feet again, just as Thor lumbered back to his towering height. Two pairs of eyes were glittering dark and blue. Tony scoffed and leaned back, just as Steve nodded to T’Challa. They were both enhanced, but make no mistake, T’Challa was going to be the one who spun the web that would catch Thor. “Oh, he doesn’t even  _ deserve  _ to win,” Natasha said in disgust. “Mistakes like that are pathetic.” 

“Close your mouth, wench!” Thor hollered. 

“Oh, come on. Resorting to gendered insults?” Wanda asked. She was chewing gum. 

There was a loud boom as Thor landed on his ass, catapulted by a powerful kick from T’Challa, dust clouding the air. “Over?” Tony asked, peering closer. 

Thor did nothing but groan. “Nice.” Steve said, nodding to T’Challa. “Who’s next?” 

Tony suppressed a complaint. “I want to see Iron Man versus Pietro,” Wanda said, elbowing him forward. 

“Come on! Young thing like that, I don’t stand a chance!”

“He’s right. You might run on energy, but I’m made of it,” Pietro said, tilting his head to size Tony up. “I want someone better.” 

No one volunteered, though. Fucking fuck this. They would never do this to the old Iron Man. Natasha had an even gaze, and it wasn’t a flattering one, not now. Did she really like him that much? Tony? “Can we get lunch first?” he tried. 

“I want lunch,” Thor grumbled. “Macaroni. T’Challa, what would you like?” 

“I’ll call Stark. His meeting is done, we get lunch. If not, you’ll just have to man up.” 

Steve had never been loud, or obtrusive, never well spoken, but it was even more glaring after the days Tony had spent with him alone. He opened up to Iron Man in private, on occasion,  _ soldier to soldier _ . Another reason Tony Stark needed to stay the way he was: the second he became Iron Man, he was just another person for Steve to take care of and order around. It took away the role of private confidant. 

“Alright,” Tony agreed, seconds too late. 

The younger heroes gathered into a little group, chatting quietly, and Thor was leaning into T’Challa’s space, taking criticism as Natasha added on occasional critique. “What was with you and Tony in the car ride?” Jan demanded. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” Tony raised his eyebrows in interest. 

“What happened?” he asked. Steve glared at the both of them. 

“Steve was acting cold to him. I don’t understand, aren’t you… I don’t know, interested in him?” 

Steve hesitated. “Not really. I mean, he was fun. It’s been fun. I like how you guys like him, Stark could use more friends, or I don’t know, he could use your respect at the very least. I know we don’t like him, but he’s really not a bad guy.” 

Jan stared at Steve. “Are you saying you just needed to fuck him out of your system?” she asked, laughing. 

“Goddamn Christ, keep out of my business.” Jan’s laughter cut off abruptly. “Fine,” she said. “Iron Man, you go get lunch early. Eat on the roof or something.” 

He saluted her, grateful, and left to get the suit. Everything was going to plan, why did it feel so…. Ugh. Why did it feel like he was losing more than he was gaining, the closer he got to his goal?

_____________________

Steve was sorer than usual when he stepped out of the shower. It was the end of their third day. Last one with Iron Man, and last one where Steve had someone to throw his weight around with. They were the perfect match and Iron Man could take a lot of damage. The battle last week, Steve had been damn impressed. He had been worried over the man in the suit, but there was no trouble. 

But.

Iron Man had been acting strange lately. Steve was keeping a close eye on him. Never ever had he been more aware that anyone could impersonate the suit. If they got their hands on the technology, they could easily fool everyone. Nat would know. He thought. He hoped. 

“Anything on your mind, big guy?” Stark asked from the door. 

Steve sighed in annoyance, opening the door. “Not really.” 

“Ooh, cryptic. Let me guess, you’re trying to find out Iron Man’s identity.” 

Steve’s eyes widened. “How did you know?” 

Stark laughed. “You’re not subtle, pal. I was just coming around to confirm the breakup.” 

“I don’t think it counts as a breakup since we were never really dating,” Steve said. He couldn’t turn around, see the way Stark was sitting on his bed. He kept his eyes on the splintering edge of the doorframe. 

“Guess you’re right.” Why’d he sound so heavy? Steve shut the door firmly, facing Stark again.

“So we just let it die off, right? I thought we had a plan.” No more movies, no more nights in. he tried to remember what he’d done with Stark before, and again, it occurred to him how  _ stupid  _ he was to hate someone he’d never known. He’d seen a hookup, once or twice, passing through the Avengers floor, and he’d seen Tony at those parties he hosted, and he’d seen Tony at Avengers budget meetings. 

  
Those put everyone on edge. 

“Yeah. Tonight, and then nothing else. Alright?” He cleared his throat, turning around. 

“Got it.” Steve stared as Stark changed, slipped out of his buttoned shirt and loosened the collar of his tie. His hair had been left ungelled the whole weekend. Steve had a certain amount of appreciation for the change. 

He put on a loose, flannel shirt, which Steve also liked, and stripped to his boxers, sitting on the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor this time,” he said with a grimace. “You’ve been working hard this week.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You realize it takes less than an hour for my muscles to heal? Take the bed, Stark.” Stark sighed and crawled in. 

“You sure you don’t want to join me?” he asked, stretching out, arms falling back as he looked at Steve. Fuck, did he. He stayed silent, stomach swirling. “Steve?” 

Steve shucked his shirt, toeing his socks off. “Stark, you…” 

“Come on, we can have some fun before it’s over.” Steve fell into the bed and Tony kissed him. Like fireworks, like key lime pie, like a roaring motor drowning everything out. 

Blood pounded in his ears as he kissed Tony, holding his hands in fists so he didn’t reach out. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, meeting him in slow, rocking kisses, warm and electric. They kept kissing, one long and slow followed by Tony’s darting nips around his collar. 

More kissing, and pushing Steve back and straddling him. Tony’s eyes were hazy, soft and warm. Steve could’ve watched them for days, but they had tonight, and it was all they’d get.

_____________________

The night ended, the morning began, and yet again, Tony was the first to wake up. It was too dark to see much, but he’d been right. Steve was a snugglebug. Their hands were still loosely clasped and his head of dark blonde hair was tucked into Tony’s shoulder. As he slowly sat up, the head moved to his lap. Fucking fuck. 

Tony had done it. 

That had been incredible. Steve had been good, and enthusiastic, and fun. Never tried too hard, Steve. Not like Tony. Easygoing, letting the water slide off his back. Tony, being a stubborn bastard, could never just free himself from expectation. He chuckled, the sound landing softly in the air and echoing. “Dammit.” He winced, closing his eyes. 

Dammit, that may have been a bad idea. He had never wanted to get under Steve’s skin, and sex w He was tired of the dual identities, in the same way he had been tired of living with the icy glares and all the time judgement from his fellow Avengers. It never occurred to him that doing  _ this  _ would plunge him deeper into their mess.

“Stark?” A deep frown was fixed on him. 

“Morning.” He sighed, leaning back. Slowly, he could feel the muscles beneath him start to relax, one hesitant hand wrapping around his ribs. 

“Wow.” Tony smiled, kissing the tip of one of his collarbones. 

“I’m glad that’s your reaction,  _ stud _ . What’ll you rate it? Ten of ten?” 

Steve didn’t respond, lips parted. Tony knew, from experience now, that they were soft. He looked. He was studying Tony closely. Straight to the soul. Then, long lashes blinking, his gaze darted away. “Yeah, it was a good time.” 

His smile was thin and it sent worry racing through Tony’s blood. “Steve?” he asked, sotto voce, kneeling on the edge of the bed. He bent over to retrieve a stray sock. 

Steve looked away from him quickly, but not quick enough. “I’m just not sure that I should have been…  _ like that  _ with you.” 

Tony frowned. This was not what he’d expected. Maybe, at most, some sort of internalized homophobia, but Steve always seemed to be comfortable. Especially about sex, no matter how he acted around some of Nat’s dirtier jokes. He ran through the night’s events in his head. The most important thing had been how  _ sweet  _ he was. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Steve, we can forget it. Unless you want to keep going?” He cocked his eyebrow up. 

Steve shook his head, walking past Tony to his bag to grab up a few toiletries. “I’m good, thanks.”    
  


“A romp in the sheets with Tony Stark is a once in a lifetime experience.” FInally, he cracked a smile. Tony waltzed forward, playful. 

“And how many hearts have you broken like this, huh?” Steve replied, not raising his head.    
  


“Ah, you’d be surprised. I’m good for a lot, but not for falling in love with.” Tony was looking into his blue eyes, unrelenting, when Steve straightened. 

“Don’t talk about this, okay? Don’t go gossiping. Or running your mouth. I don’t mind that it happened, but I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea of who I am.” 

When he said that, Tony’s first thought was a closet case. Maybe he was just private. But obviously, none of that was true. He’d been playing fuckbuddies with Tony in public, there was nothing less closeted than that. The problem was with his actions. Never once did Steve open up with the Avengers. Tony saw little hidden parts of him, that he’d never run into as Iron Man, as himself. For some reason, Steve did not want to show himself. 

“I won’t,” Tony promised. Willingly, Steve entered another kiss with him. “But you have a big heart, okay? It has room-”    
  
Steve stepped back, keeping his distance. “Leave it.” 

“Give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. There’s so much of you.” They stared at each other. Quiet. Tony was a hypocrite for saying it. He had his secrets, too.

Eventually, Steve broke the silence. “You can go, now. This is the last time.” 

“Alright, alright,” Tony said, backing away. “If you ever need another fake relationship, I’m open for business.” 

_____________________

At home, Tony stood at the window. The cars were small, the people even smaller. They’d been noticeably hollow that morning, and Jan had prodded to see what was the matter. He’d told her what ended up being the truth:  _ we’re over _ .  _ Steve was fun, while he lasted _ . 

Iron Man had performed well, taken a bad hit to the back. Tony was still feeling it, ha! With excuses, he called Happy to pick him up and gotten home an hour early. Straight to the workshop. 

  
  


It was a matter of hours before the Avengers alarm rang, just his luck.

Iron Man was first to the scene. He landed on his feet, pushing off into a headbutt straight for the broken down Leviathan, thrusters blasting. He hit it and it splintered into two parts. He twisted into a hovering position, keeping an eye out for more. “ETA on the other Avengers?” he snapped out, getting into position to take out an approaching one. 

“25 minutes, sir, excluding those members that can fly.” Tony suppressed a tired sigh. 

“That means Thor and the Wasp are on their way?” he checked, falling into a dive so fast he blurred. Two lumbering Leviathans met their end on the asphalt of the street. 

“Affirmative.” 

Tony took a deep breath. “Al- _ righty _ , get Cap on the phone.” 

“Iron Man! What’s the situation?” Steve yelled into his ear. 

“Not so loud.” He swept back in a rush of wind, flying next to a skyscraper window. “More tech that they’ve put back together from old Chitauri stuff. I can’t tell which Leviathans are being piloted and which ones aren’t. Blunt force-” He grunted, meeting another one with both feet- “Is doing the trick for now,” Tony finished grimly. 

“See what you can do. Keep them confined to empty buildings and the streets. They’re in Manhattan, right? Get them  _ away  _ from the bridges.” 

“Roger.” Tony drove forwards, mouth set in a determined line.  _ This suit is in bad shape _ , he wanted to say, separate the man from the machine.  _ I’m not sure how much I can do alone, Wasp and Thor need to hurry up,  _ and  _ I need you here. Tell me what to do _ . Iron Man stayed silent. 

Two more approached, giant and towering. He was a small figure in between them. His heart jumped, stuttering about like a fly. Stay away from the bridges. Deep breath. He could do that, he was Iron Man, he could do anything. After a second of delay, calculating which street would fit the maneuver better, Tony zoomed into the avenue with fewer cars. 

Quickly, jetting towards the tops of the buildings, he turned around, marking their bloated bodies with scorching repulsor marks. “Over here,” he said through a clenched jaw, coughing brokenly when one of them got a chest hit in. 

“Engage them, see if you can get them immobilized!” Cap shouted through the comms. 

“Speed up, Nat,” he heard in the background.  _ Please go faster, I’m struggling _ , he wanted to add. 

He didn’t say a word, instead getting an iron grip on one of the handles that had held Chitauri soldiers. Miserable thoughts of his first battle were angrily pounding on the door to his head. “That’s right,” Cap breathed in his ear, as Tony tugged it up into the sky, a single plate cracking off and falling to the floor. 

That was the worst case scenario. Suit falling apart hundreds of feet into the air. A swarm of 2 more followed his billowing path towards the warehouse district. He landed and all three smashed beside him, in pieces. 

“ETA?” he asked again.  _ I’m begging here _ . “Cap?” 

“1 minute.” Tony could cry in relief. He caught his breath, just floating dizzily for a minute. “Iron Man! Get fighting!” Cap shouted at him, enraged. 

Not enough time to catch his breath. He just had to keep going. 

The battle began to go wrong. Chestplate cracked through the middle, the latch on the boots broken, so he had to lock them onto his feet. Ankle sprained at some point. The two didn’t go together well. Cap kept trying to pull impossible stuff off, panicked at their late entry. Tony was shaking in fear, laid on his back in an alley.

Over comms, he heard worse and worse news. They were hurtling towards hopeless, here, with the Wasp’s wings snapped, plus three bones for good measure, and that meant a third of the team by the bridges was down. A grim, terrified scream blasted through his ears. Tony was like a beached turtle. He was on his back. “ _ Pietro _ !” 

That meant it was only Wanda out there. “Quicksilver!  _ Quicksilver! _ ” Cap asked. 

“He’s unconscious,” Wanda said. She was empty, and grief stricken, and… crying. Tony’s stomach turned over but he continued to stare at the sky, head lolling. “I’m sorry- more are coming, I have to leave you,” she whispered. 

  
“Medics are on their way,” Tony managed to say, after Jarvis flashed the red symbol on the inside of his helmet. He bit his tongue. 

“Iron Man, where are you?” Cap shouted. “We need you, all hands on deck!” 

Tony almost told him the truth.  _ I’m down for the count, Steve _ . He got up. He got up anyway. “Where do you need me?” 

“At my back.” 

He had joined Wanda at the bridge. Three leviathans were stuck in a bottleneck, and Clint couldn’t do much. Tony glimpsed some red hair swirled on the street. “Is Widow okay?” 

“I haven’t seen her!” Clint replied. All three went for Steve, but he outran them, weaving into a building and smashing through the door on the other side. Tony saw it all on his helmet’s heat readers. He also saw the bright, burning fatigue lighting up his face, if he dared to look. 

“She’s down,” Tony managed to say, dragging a Leviathan through the same opening 2 others were stuck in. A large, cement parking garage. “Iron Man, we can do what we did in the last battle!” Last battle, last battle…. 

Tony had catapulted the suit in a flip, dangerous enough, crashing into the backside of a building. Steve had taken out the other side with a flick of the shield, and the levels of the parking garage had crashed down, one on top of the other, with all manner of monsters in between. 

He swallowed, dry throat, sweaty hands. “On it,” he grunted, and took off. He tested the hand repulsors, but they’d been off for the last 15 minutes. He searched the area for anyone else. “Take this wall out?” 

“Affirmative!”

Steve was on the other side of the parking garage, Tony could  _ hear  _ his quiet panting over the comms. He was weightless. Wheeling through the air. “How many are left?”

“Too many,” Thor rumbled from far, far away. 

There were a thousand torn bits of Tony in that moment, like paper through a shredder. Young, and starry eyed, decades ago, the addled man returning from Afghanistan, the sweeping course he’d flown through the sky his very first time in the suit, and the love driven deep into his heart. The graves of the people he couldn’t save, and the lives that he did. 

With being a hero, you had to keep yourself separate from the scattered emotions during a battle. Even winded, Tony could. He kept his head and slammed shoulders first into the wall, plowing through it as the armor crushed onto him. 

It collapsed behind him as he bounced to a stop, battered and bloody, on the ground. 

_____________________

  
  


Steve woke up in the infirmary, still in his suit. It hadn’t been long enough for his injuries to heal. The first thing that entered his mind was his team: Wanda had gotten Pietro to a medic in time, and the Wasp was going to be grouchy for weeks as she healed. Natasha and Clint were easily visible through the window to the next hospital room. As soon as they saw him, they stood up, heading through the door. “You got banged up there, huh, Cap?” Clint teased. 

“Yeah.” He sat up, bones creaking. “Sure feels like it.” 

Natasha’s shuttered face grabbed his attention and held it. “Don’t beat around the bush, Clint,” she said levelly. “Get up, go fucking take care of him, you’re his medical proxy and he needs consultation.” 

“Who?” 

They all 3 stared at each other and the blood drained from Steve’s face. “Iron Man?” Clint said, voice wavering. 

_ He’d taken a bad hit. He’d taken those hits before, but this time something was different. It had taken him more solidly than anything else. Steve had picked up the half-crushed suit and gotten him to an ambulance, blood racing. He had messed up. What had it been?  _

_ For the life of him, he hadn’t been able to tell.  _

Steve’s eyes flashed as he stormed past them. He had never before used his status as medical proxy for Iron Man, though there had been a few close calls. The man had always been able to keep himself awake and making sane decisions. “How long has it been?” 

He’d gone into surgery as soon as the hospital got Steve’s all clear. He’d tossed it out freely, still handling the Leviathans and worried over the rest of his team. He saw the unmoving form of Wanda slumped over in a waiting chair. “Since he got out of surgery? Ten minutes.” 

He sighed in relief. “I need to see him.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Steve hesitated.  _ Was  _ he? Helmet-less, Iron Man wouldn’t hold the same mystery. “I’m sure, it was- it was my fault, I’ll probably see him soon.”    
  


“Good answer.” The nurse, who was wispy and had the slight smell of roses on her, led him to a door. He was about to enter Iron Man’s inner sanctum. “I don’t know how much you know yet, but he suffered a head injury, sprained ankle. Four of his ribs are cracked, one is broken. His right shoulder needed extensive surgery, his left is in better shape. He’s lucky,” she chuckled. 

“Why?” 

“Left handed.” Oh. Steve hadn’t known. Just like Tony, Iron Man. 

He schooled himself, trying to loosen his hands. Iron Man may have just been his closest friend. As close as anybody could be to a friend, at least. Steve didn’t keep friends in the new millennium. It had been years since he’d left the ice, yet still he had so few. She shut the door tightly, avoiding prying eyes. 

Steve’s eyes lit upon Iron Man- who was…

Who was Tony. He lifted his hand, watching the beeping machine keep time with breaths. Steve’s thumping heart was loud in comparison. “Is this…” 

“Tony Stark is Iron Man,” she said. 

Steve bit his lip hard, breath quivering. He took the heel of his palm, rubbing at his eyes. He’d been in Cap mode, he hadn’t  _ expected this _ . Tony touched on parts of him he hadn’t thought of in a long time, during their admittedly short time together. 

Tony had washed him clean. He’d dug so deep that Steve was ready to kiss the living daylights out of him, but he’d let him go- just this morning, oh God- and that had been it. Steve still had that pair of pants, winestained, on his chair ready for laundry day. “When’s he going to wake up?” he whispered out, soft. 

“Hour or two.” Steve leaned down and kissed his forehead, feeling the nurse go, rather than seeing it. 

“Get going then, sweetheart, you wake up soon, okay?” he scolded, feeling silly. How had he not seen it? It felt like it had to be obvious. Did Fury know? Did Jan? Did Pepper Potts? He wiped at his eyes, sitting back. 

The tears fell. He’d been expecting it. It had been so long since he cried. But Steve, here he was, crying. Tony had slotted himself so neatly into that gray area in Steve’s brain. His boss- but not his boss, and definitely not his team. He’d let loose. Fuck. Fuckity fucking fuck. This was not something he was expecting. 

His phone buzzed. All manner of texts from the non-injured members of his team.  _ Iron Man is fine _ , he typed out,  _ Still waiting for him to wake up. Will get back to you _ . 

And he waited. 

_____________________

Tony woke up, brain extra fuzzy. And body  _ extra  _ hurty, oh god, ouch. “I hate this life, someone get me a new one,” he groaned. 

“Tony!” 

That… that was Steve. “Cap?” he asked, one eye falling open. “Did we win?” 

“Tony, what the fuck?”    
  


Tony shook his head. Not today. Not fucking today. Was Steve angry? Was he worried? Was he surprised? Tony didn’t care. He was going to pretend that the meds had gotten him so turned around that he didn’t even remember he was Iron Man, let alone that it was a secret. “Morphine?” 

“Hey, you answer me, fucker, I know you’re in there,” Steve scoffed. “I’m worried as all get out. And confused.” 

Damn it. Tony cracked his eyes open. “Surprise, motherfucker, I’m Iron Man,” he mumbled. “Whisper sweet nothings in my ear if you want more information.” 

Steve leaned down. He smelled, slightly, like burnt asphalt. “You made me cry, please keep talking so I don’t punch a wall.” 

He leaned back. “Better work on-” Tony coughed loudly. “Uh, better work on those anger issues, Steve, honey. It looks like I took a fucking beating, I knew I would but damn, is this bad…” 

“Iron Man?” Steve asked. He still sounded a little tentative. It was sweet. 

“Iron Man is me. Has been since, well, the beginning. Do you see where that could raise problems? I do,” Tony said unprompted. “I’m sorry for leading you on, really.” He couldn’t  _ not  _ be on drugs, if this was where he was taking it. “I know you wouldn’t want to have gone through this charade now that I've turned out to be your teammate.” 

“I’m just mad I didn’t notice,” Steve confessed. “Iron Man, he’s my best friend. You’re my best friend. But you- or, well, Tony Stark- you’re my enemy, too. That must have been confusing.” 

“I got whiplash every time I attended a budget meeting,” Tony said, managing a dry laugh. “I- water, please.” 

“Sure, that’s all my questions for now, I bet I’ve filled most of it in anyway… I’m glad you’re okay. Mostly okay.” 

“God, me too,” Tony said heartily, swallowing the water. “Better, thank you.” 

Steve reached out, sliding his hands into Tony’s hair. “I bet it’s feeling sore.” 

“Hngh, yeah,” Tony said, blinking heavily. “This ‘s really gonna hurt in the morning,” he said sleepily. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve replied, from somewhere foggy and far away. 

_____________________

Over the next few days, as Tony spent hours in Cho’s cradle and the rest of the time hobbling around board meetings, he found out that Steve was very, very good at keeping secrets. He’d help Tony around his apartment when Jarvis sent him a message, pesky AI that he was, and no one batted an eyelash. ‘

“So, this means that if we  _ were  _ fuckbuddies,” he said, slumped into a chair and watching Steve cook some eggs in a battered  _ NASA  _ T-shirt, “You would be very good at keeping it quiet, right?” 

Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Give me a break, if we were fuckbuddies, you’d be gossiping to Jan in minutes.” 

“Would not!”

“Would too!” Steve retorted. “You do it with all your hook ups, I’ve seen it. And heard it, actually.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Not all of them, only most of them. I once hooked up with a prince, did you know that?”    
  


“No.” Steve narrowed his eyes. “How many secrets do you have?” 

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” Tony replied smugly. “Hey, where are my glasses?” 

Steve sat down at the table, eating some toast in that same, weird way, all at once. “No clue. And I don’t think we’d ever become fuckbuddies,” he said, consideringly. “Probably- I don’t know, I’d rather date you.” He ducked his head. 

Tony’s jaw dropped. “That’s an option? Are you saying that’s an option?” 

Steve half smiled. “Uh, you’ve told me at least twice that I should open up more, and funny enough, now that I’m telling the truth you don’t seem to believe me.” 

“Oh, I do,” Tony said immediately, nodding. “You haven’t held me in a tender place in your heart, though, for very long.” He paused. “Does this mean I get to kiss you? Wear your Avengers jersey?” 

“I don’t have a jersey, but you can have my t-shirt,” Steve laughed. “Wait, wait, is it you who always sends me the Iron Man merch? I would wear it more, but the team, uh.” he smiled. “They get ideas from that sort of thing.” 

Tony frowned. “Well, yes, that’s me, but how’d we get off topic from kissing? I want some kisses. I demand them.” Steve stood up abruptly, crossing the room. Tony was in his chair, in over-large pajamas, he hadn’t combed his hair this morning so it was a little too floppy, and he probably looked like he’d been in Cho’s cradle longer than the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills had been in tanning beds, so he looked like crap, but. 

But Steve was looking at him like he was the handsome man who spent days on city streets, nights partying. “I would kiss you.”    
  


“I want you to,” Tony said, tilting his head up. One, gentle hand tangled in his hair and the other rested on his left shoulder. 

Tony got the idea that Steve was going to be  _ embarrassingly  _ gentle whenever he was remotely injured, and he also got the idea that that NASA shirt was going to look good on him, soon, but both slipped out of his mind when their lips touched. 

They kissed, gentle and tender and all those other things that the road to love was paved with. Apparently it was in Steve’s nature to kiss like this, full and bright, because the next kiss was the same way, just like the first one they’d shared those days ago, and Tony didn’t mind it.

Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment or kudos if you enjoyed this, it would totally mean a lot even if it's just you saying it was fun, or you liked it!! thank you for reading! 
> 
> also, if you were to subscribe to this, there is the potential for a sequel or epilogue? The story IS completed but it might get.... uh, more completed? who knows <3

**Author's Note:**

> please comment if you can, or if you have the time! it would mean a lot!


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